


early risers.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Independence Day (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: David is already awake when Julius gets up in the morning - Julius suspects he hasn't slept.





	early risers.

David is sitting by the window when Julius rises in the morning. 

It’s early in the morning - he’d stayed overnight because there’s a leak in his apartment building, and despite his offers to fix the damn thing himself, the landlord had insisted on getting another guy in. It isn’t even in David’s apartment, but he can  _hear_  it, he says, the sound of the dripping water rattling through the vents–

It’s a shitty apartment. Julius wishes he’d move, stay somewhere nicer.

David sits very still, wide awake, and he looks out of the window with his elbow on the sill, his lips loosely pressed together, his expression… far away. The ring - Connie’s ring, always Connie’s ring - is turning on his finger as he fiddles with it, his thumb turning it on the skin.

“David,” Julius says. “It’s not even six.”

“Hm?” David asks, turning his head, and he looks at Julius uncomprehendingly for a few moments, his lips parting. “Oh, I, uh– I haven’t been awake too long.”

“You sleep?”

“Sure,” David says. It’s convincing, too, comes with a little quirk of lips that’s meant to be reassuring, but… Julius studies him for a few long moments - when did David get so good at lying to his own father? When did that happen? 

“David,” Julius says, quietly, sadly. God, what is he supposed to say to him? Stop thinking about her? Stop loving her? Move on, find somebody else? It isn’t the adoration of Connie that’s the hard part, it isn’t  _her_  - it’s how much he seems like he  _hates_  himself for everything that’d happened, how much he seems to just… Think about it. God knows he doesn’t need a leak in the apartment building to keep himself from sleeping. 

“Dad?” David asks, a little concern creeping into his tone, and he leans back in the old armchair - how many times, Julius wonders, had he curled up in that chair, when he was a boy? How many times would Julius see him with a book bigger than he was, spread out over his skinny knees? How many times had Sarah sat there with David on  _her_  knee, and let David read aloud to her from books neither she nor Julius really understood? “Dad, are you okay?” David stands up, and Julius lets out a vague grumble of noise, waving him off.

“You want breakfast?” Julius demands, a little gruffly. 

“Dad, I’ll cook,” David says, taking a step forward, and he puts his hand on Julius’ shoulder. “You sit down, I’ll make you something.” Always taking care of somebody, or something. Julius doesn’t need taking care of: David doesn’t care. 

“No,” Julius says. “I want to make… I’ll make breakfast.” He can see the argument on David’s tongue, and Julius turns away, pointing out of the kitchen window, stepping into the other room. “I want you to look at the drainpipe.”

“The drainpipe? Outside? What’s wrong with it?” David asks, already moving past Julius and dragging his coat on over his pyjamas, glancing around for his boots.

“I don’t know!” Julius grumbles: nothing. But if Julius starts on breakfast, there’ll be no arguing over it - David’ll have to sit back and let him do it. “It’s making a noise at night.”

“It didn’t last night.”

“But it did on Thursday! Kept me up, with the wind, it was clattering, always and always, the tap-tap, tap-tap, I never heard such a thing, I–”

“Okay, okay,” David says, spreading his hands. Julius sees the slight quirk of his lips, and he hovers as David pulls on his boots, watching him carefully. “I’ll take a look.”

“Thank you,” Julius murmurs, and he goes to the fridge. He stays there for a second as David steps outside, his hand on the fridge door, wishes he could fix things, wishes… 

No point in wishes anymore. Wishes are as useless as prayers.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up on Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.
> 
> I've now set up a Goldblum fan blog, because like... I mean, who is surprised? So check that out at [goldbluminspired.tumblr.com](), and DEFINITELY check out the watch parties I'm setting up! Every Saturday, I want to set up a watch party where we can all watch a livestream of some Jeff Goldblum content together, and tonight, we're doing Vibes (1998)! Totally follow the blog for more info.


End file.
